Azure
by Medeaa
Summary: He never had a chance to see her face and slowly came to the conclusion that this unawareness will drive him insane. He couldn't imagine how she could look like. He didn't even know why it interested him in the first place. Each time, however, when he went to work from his car and on the way back, he looked in all directions, if the azure of her hair was somewhere nearby.


A/N: _My English sucks, so ceep in mind that this is a translation. Your opinion is like gold to me so if any of you reading this would like to share a note, feel free._

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He first saw her when leaving his office after work.

She was sitting at a bus stop in front of the building with her head tilted back and resting on the window behind her, a cup of coffee in hand and headphones in her ears. Her leg was jumping up and down, probably in the rhythm of music she was listening. She drew attention only because of her blue hair under the black hat she wore, distinguishing her in the crowd. But he quickly stopped thinking about her when he heard the roar of the approaching storm and felt the first raindrops on his face. He moved quickly, shielding his face with his hand, which in the long run, didn't help at all. Till he got to the car he was soaked to the bones and after entering his apartment he began to sneeze.

 _Damn weather_ , he muttered to himself reaching for the aspirin. he spend the evening on the couch under a blanket, sneezing and cursing.

The next time he saw her when walking to his office very early in the morning; she was walking down the sidewalk in front of him. He had a chance to look at her, even if only from behind. She had a black cap again on contrasting strongly with the azure of her hair. She wore a maroon leather jacket and tight white skinny jeans fantastic spanning her ass. She was wearing black high-heeled shoes; he heard the loud thud thud thud even from this distance. Over her shoulder slung a black bag. More and more people were moving to work or for shopping, so he lost her in the crowd just before entering his office. He wondered what she looked like, how looked her face, eyes and lips.

Mirajane, sitting at the front desk, quickly changed his thinking by giving him timetable meetings for the next week and a list of numbers to new customers who wanted to valuate their belongings. Only when he sat in his car after work he had time to think again about the blue-haired woman.

A week later he saw her walking across the street, this time with a phone at her ear. A few days later, he caught a glimpse of her blue head at the entrance to the subway, then again, when she walked into a shop, when he had just stepped out of the car. He never had a chance to see her face and slowly came to the conclusion that this unawareness will drive him insane. He couldn't imagine how she could look like. He didn't even know why it interested him in the first place. Each time, however, when he went to work from his car and on the way back, he looked in all directions, if the azure of her hair was somewhere nearby. Her blue shag slipped unnoticed more often to his tangled thoughts, and after a month into his dreams.

He noticed her with horror as she sat at the bus stop, just like the first time he saw her, and read a book. A curtain of azure hair fell on her face, so he couldn't see her face. He quickened his pace, hoping to finally see what haunted him for nearly two months. He told himself that if only he could know what she looked like, it would stop drill a hole in his brain, and that he would be finally able to sleep peacefully and not wake up in a sweat and with need for a quick cold shower. The subconscious provided him with bizarre dreams. He nearly howled in despair over his own powerlessness when he noticed the passing bus that stopped, grabbed the reason for his nightmares, and as if nothing had happened, moved on.

He hadn't seen her for another month.

Almost breathing in relief and thinking it would be a permanent state when she finally ceased to haunt his dreams and drive him a little paranoid on the way to and from work. However, the next day her azure head reappeared when he was passing Mirajane desk at the exit and saw her through the glass door. He wanted to rush out and even make a fool of himself by hooking her on the street, when Mira called after him. The boss wanted him for a moment to talk about something, so cursing and glaring, he let go of the doorknob and walked back to the office.

He decided to steam his frustration by going to the nearest bar to drink. Somewhere once flashed at him a sign of some pub two streets from work, so there he directed his steps. The bar has been quite empty, even for this hour and it looked like any other bar, which he visited in the past. A few people sat at wooden tables in the room drinking beer. The barmaid, smiling from ear to ear, was rubbing a glass. A slight blush on her cheeks showed that she hadn't shied this evening from alcohol.

And at the bar, quietly and without sensation, sat the curse of his last three months. Slowly he approached her, unable to believe what he was seeing. This time she didn't wore a cap and he was able to fully admire her long blue waves reaching to the shoulders. Her jacket was slung over the back of the high chair, and on the other side she put her purse. She was wearing a ashen shirt dating back to the thighs, black leggings and motorcycle boots with zippers and buckles. Her leg was moving to the rhythm of quiet music emanating from the speakers. She was reading a newspaper. When he sat down at the bar two chairs to the left of her, he decided to look her in the face. Again a curtain of hair obscured the view and he even clenched his fists in anger.

"You're staring", he heard, suddenly.

He blinked, amazed. In fact, he was staring at her without being aware of it. The woman, however, didn't even look up from the newspaper, didn't look in his direction, she only reached for the glass in front of her halfway filled with an amber liquid and drank a small sip, still focused on the newspaper. He noticed the delicate trace of lipstick left on the glass and felt a strange shiver running down his spine.

"Tough day?", he heard her voice again and again a shiver ran down his spine.

He didn't know what was happening to him.

He was going crazy, really insane.

First, for three months because he couldn't see her face and his brain created strange scenarios, and now he was going crazy, because he had her right in front of him and didn't know if he wanted to satisfy his curiosity. The woman was something of a mystery; he couldn't see her face, he didn't know her name and that excited him in some way. He noticed that he wanted to keep this state for some time. That's why he turned in his chair and started staring at the glass bottles in front of him.

"You could say that", he only said.

From the corner of his eye he saw as she closed the newspaper and threw it on the counter toward the barmaid. The woman, still smiling broadly, rolled it up under the counter and nodded at him. Before he could order his drink, the blue-haired woman said:

"Give him the Burnup. He looks like he needs it."

The barmaid with a sly smile on her lips nodded and started to prepare the drink. With raised eyebrows he looked back at the woman next to him, her finally pushing her hair behind her ear showing her full face. She smiled gently resting her chin on her right hand.

A shiver ran again down his spine and stopped in the deeps of his stomach. She was beautiful. He couldn't describe her otherwise . Unconsciously, he got up from his chair and sat down next to her, aware that he was staring again. How could he think that the mystery surrounding her diminish her person when he finally get to know her? How could he think that his fascination will be over, the madness will end, when in front of him was the reason to go even deeper into this craziness. He absorbed her face, as if trying to memorize her every detail. Liquid honey-colored eyes, tiny pink lips, small nose, narrow face, a pierced left eyebrow. She was petite and small, she looked like twenty years, although he suspected that she was older.

As he stared at her, he noticed that she looked at him. She looked at the long black hair, tanned skin, dark eyes, straight long nose and countless earrings, then on the line of his jaw and lower on the collarbones picking out of the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, at the wide chest, muscled arms and a scar on his right hand, now visible when his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. Her small smile told him that she liked what she saw .

The barmaid approached them and put a small glass in front of him, her sly smile still plastered on her face.

"You will love this", she said and walked away.

"What the hell?", he said in the end, and the woman beside smiled and sipped from her glass.

The drink was black and warm. It smelled like coffee, alcohol and a few other things he couldn't recognize. He took one sip out of curiosity and his eyes widened in surprise at the feeling of this weird thing in his glass. The taste was strange; the bitterness of the black coffee, the sweetness of sugar and the strength of the alcohol created an amazing mixture, heat waves spilling over his body and flowing into his stomach. He stretched instinctively, feeling relaxation flowing into the muscle with every sip.

"Amazing", he finally said with a faint smile.

She smiled too, seeing his face and reached into her purse beside her, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She lit it with skill and blew the ball of gray smoke into the ceiling. He forgot his glass immediately. His eyes focused on her little hand holding the white tissue, then on her lips and then at the red lit end of the cigarette. Completely fixated on these three things, he didn't noticing his loud swallows .

"You are staring again", she told him, gently nudging him with her elbow.

A shiver came again, this time from the right hand along the arm and straight down into the stomach and then even lower.

 _Gods._

He must get out of this bar or else he just do something he'll regret. Thoughts swirled in his head together with alcohol in the blood. How did it happen that some small little stranger had such an impact on him passed his understanding. Never in his life hadn't he met someone so appealing, like the blue of her hair was a magnet. He swallowed the remaining fluid in one gulp and then he was already reaching for the wallet to pay, quickly say goodbye and just walk off, when he heard a phone ringing. The woman put down her cigarette quickly to a nearby ashtray and turned to her jacket, pulling out a small phone and with a quiet sorry picked the call.

"Yes, I am ... I have time …", she said, looking at the silver watch on her right wrist and reached into her purse pulling out a fountain pen, then furiously writing something on a napkin. - "I'll be twenty in minutes", she added and hung up.

He noticed that her phone display showed nearly nine. Who could she meet at such time?

"Excuse me", she said, finishing her drink, the cigarette still smoldering in the ashtray. "Work calls", she said, sliding out of the chair, the cigarette in her mouth as she put on her leather jacket on.

She was small; maybe she came up to his shoulder. When she drew out her hair tangled in the collar of her jacket, he noted a tattoo at the hairline under her left ear. Slightly disheveled and with a cigarette in her mouth she looked incredibly sexy and he was tempted to ask for her phone number and name. He refrained, however. He didn't want it to be only a brief acquaintance for one evening, which would end up faster than the blink of an eye. Therefore, he nodded his head slightly when she said goodbye and stared at the row of bottles in front of him, refraining from looking at her swaying hips.

This time he ordered a glass of double whiskey.

It took another two months, when he saw her again in some small bookstore nearby the bar. She stood with the back to him with a ridiculous big book in her hands. Through the window he could see that the bookstore was also a café. Here and there were spaced stools, chairs and sofas with small tables. In the corner at the counter stood a young girl with long, dark hair and serviced several clients with a broad smile on his lips. He wanted to go inside and say hello, but he knew he had no time, that his clients are waiting and he wouldn't have even five minutes to start a decent conversation. However he tapped on the window until finally she turned around disoriented. She saw him on the sidewalk, and to his surprise, she smiled broadly. She waved her hand inviting to get inside and pointed to the girl behind the counter and then raised her hand to her mouth as if drinking from a invisible glass. She invited him for coffee. He smiled in reply and pointed to his watch, implying that he hadn't time. She made a sad face and something inside he made a big flip and landed in his stomach. He waved her goodbye and left.

He started dreaming about her again.

Another month later he stood before the same bookshop with an uncertain expression and business card in his hand. The company needed to value. Lucy, who was an expert in this field, was on a monthly vacation, and they needed someone competent as fast as possible. Mirajane with a sweet smile, not including her eyes, pressed a business card his hand and told to make an appointment with the new appraiser. The woman didn't answer the phone, and that the address on the card was in their area, he was told to handle the issue.

Under the threat of death he wouldn't admit that he was happy to have an excuse to go to the bookstore. He hoped that he could meet her there. He didn't see her since their last meeting and noted that it was very troubling. He watched the streets from side to side again to see somewhere the azure of her hair and felt disappointed not seeing it anywhere in the concrete landscape of the city. His thoughts were still around her small form, which he wanted so much to get to know better. He recreated in mind their brief meeting at the bar, remembering the small details.

She was left-handed. Her ringtone the soundtrack to the TV series of _Sherlock_. She smoked normal cigarettes, not that flavoured shit. Her glass contained probably whiskey. She used a fountain pen, not a ballpen. She had tattoo behind her ear and a pierced eyebrow.

He was fascinated by her.

Several months of chasing after knowing her face, changed in a half year madness. He wanted to know more, to learn everything about her. Know for example what coffee she liked drinking. He suspected that black and strong, without sugar and milk. She didn't look like someone who complicates things. She also wore simple clothes, without trimmings, sequins and other oddities.

He also noticed that his interest has changed a little. It was no longer haunted by the image of a blue ghost without a face, which he simply had to know, but by a real woman, and that he could handle.

 _Somehow._

 _Probably._

He went finally inside looking around. Going to a small bar between shelves of books, he noticed the azure of hair bent over a book and felt something clutching his guts and on his face appeared a smile. On the table before her there were other volumes, probably old documents, and crumpled pieces of paper. Among all this stood a large porcelain cup with the inscription _Belladona._ With astonishment he looked again. Gothic letters with different flourishes in black lettering adorned the cup. Only when he got over to the bar and glanced at the menu, he understood. While in ordinary cafes you could order an espresso or flavored latte, the menu at this cafe consisted of helleborus, strychnine, arsenic, hemlock or morphine. Various poisons and potions names usually associated with tales of witches adorned the wall. To this they were also cups, each to the corresponding type of beverage. The owner had a wonderful sense of humor.

He leaned his shoulder against the counter and looked back at the blue-haired woman. She wore glasses, making him extremely surprised. Today, she was dressed in a dark green shirt with sleeves rolled up, black shorts and sandals. At the sight of her bare legs he swallowed hard.

"You're staring again", he heard.

Quickly he looked at her face, feeling himself flush. But this time, he took a deep breath and smiled broadly. All his nervousness passed, he thought that after all, he just needs to be himself, and the woman before him is not someone again so extraordinary. _Right?_

"I've got a good view", he just said.

To his surprise, she raised skeptical her eybrows and her lips twisted slightly. Behind him, he heard a slight grunt and looked at the girl at the bar.

"What would you like?", she asked with a smile.

She was quite tall, slim, with dark straight hair to the waist and big eyes. She might be eighteen. He turned to blue-haired woman at the table, who returned to the documents in front of her.

"What are you recommending?", he asked her, ignoring her irritated look, when she looked at him.

He felt strangely happy to see her face without that confident smile, which bestowed upon him at the bar. He thought she had a lot of work today and that she didn't sleep well, because she ridiculously puffed out her cheeks and muttered something under his breath to herself, after a while postponing papers and taking a long sip from her cup. The pendant around her neck slipped out when she leaned forward - on a chain were three shells from bullets, each with a transparent piece of quartz in the middle. Under her eyes he saw shadows - due to poor night's sleep.

"For you?", she asked, eyeing him. "Arsenic."

"You want to poison me right away?", leaning his elbows on top of the counter, he asked.

In response she gave him a broad, hopeful smile as if she really couldn't wait to submit him in a coffin and bury him.

"Wendy even help me hide the body", she added, nodding to the bartender and with a small smile she went back to her papers.

So she had a sense of humor. He turned to Wendy, who smiled apologetically, making him the strange coffee. From his pocket he took out a business card, which he got from Mirajane and showed the girl.

"I'm looking for Levy McGarden", he said and noticed that the girl looked quickly over his shoulder and then back at the card. "I need an expert on old books."

The girl reached for a small cup and put it under the coffee machine, where after a while a trickle of dark liquid flowed in.

"She's not present at the time", she said briefly, pouring coffee into a cup, focused on the work being done. "Deliver her something?"

"Do you know where she is?", he asked, ignoring the question and staring intently at her face.

"No."

"You know when she comes back?"

"No."

"How do I contact her?"

"Please leave your phone number. She call back to you."

He had a feeling that something was wrong. The girl seemed suddenly very nervous and responded enigmatically. He decided, however, to ignore it, thinking that his stature and piercings on his face intimidates the girl .

"It's my business card",he said, pulling from his pocket a small cardboard. "I need a call from her by the end of the week."

The girl nodded, took a business card and handed him a cup of steaming coffee with the inscription _Arsenic_. He took it with raised eyebrows, not knowing what exactly to expect. He looked at the azure haired woman absorbed in working on documents. She was biting the tip of her pen staring at the papers in front of her. After a moment, she sighed resignedly, put down everything on the table and closed her tired eyes, leaning back in her chair.

"Hard night?",he asked, walking over to her.

Startled, she opened quickly her eyes and stared intensely at him as he sat in a chair next to her with a steaming mug.

"You could say that", she said, still staring at him.

She looked extremely puzzled, her face indicated that she thought on something hard, probably about him and he couldn't tell if this was something good or bad.

"What are you working at?", he asked, nodding at the papers spread out on the table.

"I'm planning to take over the world", he heard. "One cup of coffee separates me from success."

He smiled broadly. It was going to be an interesting day.


End file.
